


Being a Greengrass

by salazahr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Relationships, Canon Compliant, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Hogwarts, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, Ravenclaw, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27417208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salazahr/pseuds/salazahr
Summary: Astoria Greengrass was raised to choose duty, honour and family. What that meant, she wasn't sure. What she knew above all else was that the only person she could truly count on was herself, and that trust was a hard earned currency.Through her years at Hogwarts she watches the Wizarding World change around her, and she is forced to reexamine the values she had been raised to believe in, without losing her own identity.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. Being a Greengrass

**Author's Note:**

> This is something as a prologue to the story, and the next chapters will begin a bit later in her life, when she starts her fourth year. A slight disclaimer: I know Astoria is canonically two years younger than Draco and the Golden Trio, but in this fic she is only one year below, in the same year as Ginny and Luna.

“Being a Greengrass means upholding a legacy of excellence,” her mother said, stroking her hair as they looked up at the painting of Edward Greengrass, their most recent ancestor who had by any means acheived excellence. Edward Greengrass, born in 1835 and deceased in 1928, had been Chief Warlock of the Wizemgamot following the untimely death of the previous one, for an interim period of three years. Victoria Greengrass was a tall, narrow woman, with a long neck, dark hair and squared shoulders, who never turned down her chin, even while speaking to a child. “Ours is one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain, stewards to Salazar Slytherin himself, while he was alive. You must understand that the position of steward was unlike the one it is today; it was a position of great power, and privilege, and respect,“ she continued, her hand twitching as her rings caught in a tangled strand of Astoria’s hair. „Yes, mother,“ Astoria said, ignoring the painful tugs of her hair as her mother’s jewelry broke free.

„For centuries, we Greengrasses have upheld the honour and legacy of Slytherin house, and our family may be the only one who’s members have solely been sorted into Slytherin,“ she said. Astoria considered her cousin Urian, who she distinctly remembered being sorted into Hufflepuff, although he was rarely mentioned. “What many people – people of lesser means – do not realize,“ her mother urged, “is that everything in this life is a choice. A choice between duty and disregard, between honor and disgrace, and between family and the self. When a Slytherin steps up to the sorting, he does not walk alone. By his side stand his ancestors, his family, and future generations of Slytherins. The Sorting Hat is not a test beyond your control, it is something to be wielded. That is the mark of a true Slytherin. We do not submit ourselves to powers beyond our control. We choose duty, honor, and family.“ 

A knock on the door made her mother quickly remove her hand, and turn away from the painting. “Come in,” she called in her clear voice, which had always reminded Astoria of the small crystal bells she used to play with. Daphne stepped in, already wearing her Hogwarts robes, decorated with a green and silver trim and tie. „Father asked whether you are prepared to leave,“ she said in a low voice, keeping near the door. Father’s study unsettled Daphne somewhat, as it contained a tingle of forbiddenness. She would only enter it if asked by father himself, which rarely occurred.

“Just a moment, dear. Tell your father we will be with him shortly,“ her mother said, and Daphne shuffled out of the study. Victoria crouched down to meet Astoria at eye-level, taking Astoria slightly aback. “Remember that when you enter that hall, you are not only yourself. You are a legacy of greatness, and you are my daughter. Your father’s daughter. A member of this family. We will be so proud of you, to see you walk in our footsteps, and grow into a beautiful young woman.” Astoria nodded. “Yes, mother,” she whispered.

Her mother got up, touched her hand lightly to her shoulder and guided her into the sitting room, where Daphne and their father stood by the fireplace. Her father, a stout older man, with a wizard’s hat seated on top of his balding head, looked at his pocketwatch and sighed. He grabbed a fistful of Floo powder and stepped into the fireplace with a firm grip on Daphne’s shoulder. Both of them disappeared in a flash of green fire and smoke, and Astoria and her mother followed suit.

***

Astoria stepped out of the boat, gathering her robes around her knees to keep the hem dry. She had shared a boat with a quiet boy, and neither of them had attempted to speak on the boat ride over. The gamekeeper, a ghastly man with a frightening beard a beady eyes, led the group towards the castle. She wondered if his presence was meant to serve as a warning to the first years, to tell them that Hogwarts was unlike the safety of their family homes. Glancing around she caught the eye of a red headed girl, covered in freckles. A Weasley. Daphne had warned her to steer clear of them. She quickly broke eye contact and focused on the ground in front of her, watching her feet step forward, one by one, avoiding the roots and puddles scattered accross the walkway. She attempted to keep her mind off the fact that today – this peculiar Tuesday – would decide the next seven years of her life.

As they finally reached their destination, an elegant woman stood at the top of the stairs and motioned for them to gather around. Minerva McGonagall was deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, and Head of Gryffindor house. She had a severe look about her that reminded Astoria of her mother, although she would never admit to it. She counted off the houses, and Astoria took the time to look around, watching as other students reacted to her introduction of the houses. Some had a confused, determined look, and Astoria assumed they were mudbloods, whereas others perched noticeably at the mention of their preferred house. At the mention of Slytherin she found few students with a visible interest. One a short, nasty looking boy with a trail of snot running out of his nose, the second a girl she had seen at her parents Christmas parties and functions – Fiona Avery – whose face seemed to carry a permanent scowl. The others she did not recognize, but they looked no kinder than the first two. She wondered whether she would make lifelong companions out of any of them, squaring her shoulders as the first years were led into the Great Hall. The ceilings were covered in floating candles, and the ceiling itself seemed to penetrate the clouds on the night sky, allowing them full access to the starry heavens.

The line passed quickly at first, with an roar of applause as each student was sorted. “Gerrick, Amanda,” professor McGonagall called, and the girl in front of Astoria walked up to the stage. The hat almost seemed to grumble, until it shouted out: “RAVENCLAW!” Amanda Gerrick jumped off the stool, nearly throwing the hat away and dissappeared to the Ravenclaw table in a flurry of blonde hair and oversized robes.

“Greengrass, Astoria.” She felt a wave of cold run down her back and looked to Daphne as she stepped on to the stage and inched towards the hat. Daphne smiled slightly and nodded, encouraging her to walk faster.

She sat down, letting her feet dangle slightly above ground as the hat covered her eyes. _Greengrass,_ a voice whispered, almost behind her ears. She considered her mother’s words. To choose duty, honor, and family. She envisioned herself sitting in a common room with the nasty looking boy and the scowling girl, laughing, but as soon as the scowl disappeared from the girl’s face she seemed to disappear. _You are uncertain._ She couldn’t help but agree with the hat. _There are plenty of other choices for you. You are no Slytherin, but if you ask I will grant your wish. Should you care to find out what you are beyond your family name, you may stay quiet._ The hat had no recognizable voice, beyond a grumble or a shiver that penetrated her mind. _All right then._ “RAVENCLAW.”

The hat was pulled off her head and she was blinded by the light. At first her eyes met Daphne’s, who seemed neither surprised nor disappointed. She carried a rather bland expression, but maintained eye contact until Astoria broke away, turning instead to the now roaring Ravenclaw table. She hurried towards it, finding a seat next to Amanda Gerrick, who met her with a shy smile. “Hello,” Astoria whispered, not daring to look ahead and risk meeting Daphne’s eyes again.


	2. That's tradition, for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just a disclaimer – this is the beginning of Astoria's fourth year which corresponds to the fifth book. As I said in the last chapter, I know this is not completely canon, but bear with me. The chapters will also be quite short, but that should also mean that I can post more often.

Daphne and Astoria had never been particularly close. This stemmed from a variety of reasons, but namely that they were both aware that Astoria had been their parents favourite. The thought sometimes struck both of them, although they would never speak it out loud, that had Astoria been born first, their parents might only have wanted one child. This had never led to any animosity until the Christmas break of their first year, when they returned home only to find that Astoria was still the favourite child, even after having been sorted to Ravenclaw. Since then they would at most engage in polite chit-chat, while their parents or other important people were present. As they stood at platform 9 3/4 they engaged in exactly this, standing beside their mother who warned them – an annual exercise – to stay away from Harry Potter. The warning carried particular weight this time, as he would likely spend the year spouting nonsense about You-Know-Who’s return. Daphne, who had secretly fancied Cedric Diggory since she first saw him play quidditch, was especially annoyed by Potter’s antics, and animatedly promised to not so much as glance in his direction. Their father would usually accompany them as well, but this year he had been pulled in to work. He worked as a liaison between Gringotts’ and the Ministry for Magic, although after a glass of Sherry he would cheekily state that his job was “keeping the Goblins’ long fingers off Wizards’ gold.” Afterwards he would chuckle and lose his train of thought.

Their mother turned to Astoria expectantly, and Astoria reassured her mother that she would also steer clear of Potter and his gang of miscreants. Potter’s reputation varied greatly between the sisters’ two houses. Whereas in Slytherin he was generally ackowledged as Public Enemy no. 1, in Ravenclaw attitudes towards him were more ambiguous. Astoria was even aware of a few girls that had fancied him during last year’s Triwizard tournament, although that was before the last trial, and before he became a raving lunatic. She imagined their attitudes would have changed somewhat over the summer.

“Goodbye, mother,” Astoria said and kissed her cheek lightly. She and Daphne hurried into the train, and quickly separated as Daphne slid into a compartment with Pansy Parksinson and Millicent Bullstrode. Astoria continued through the train, finding Amanda near the end, huddled over a book. She looked up as Astoria walked in and smiled gently. “How was your summer?”

Astoria plopped down on the seat across from her. “Same as usual. Just a bunch of reading and sitting outside, and waiting for school to start again. How about yours?” she asked.

Amanda rolled her eyes. “So dramatic, always. I know for a fact you went to a bunch of fancy parties!” she said with a smile. “And I’ve just stayed at my grandparents’ for most of the summer. Grandda insisted on giving me a mountain of his old notes from his Hogwarts days. It’s almost depressing that they’re still relevant. We will honestly be learning the same things my grandda did.”

“That’s tradition, for you,” Astoria commented and looked out the window to see the train platform disappearing out of sight. She found it oddly symbolic that the History of Magic was taught by a ghost. It seemed like a reminder that the Wizarding World’s greatest history had already come and gone. There was no need to update the syllabus past professor Binns’ lifetime, as anything since past was a mere shadow of the Wizarding World that used to be. She wasn’t dreaming about You-Know-Who’s reign of terror, although she worried that if she shared these thoughts with anyone they’d accuse her of it. She wasn’t even nostalgic about the past before then. She just found it typical that the school would rather pretend History ended when its professor passed away, rather than confronting the more difficult times that occurred after his passing. “Do you think they’ll ever replace professor Binns?” she finally asked.

Amanda shrugged. “I imagine its far more affordable to employ someone that requires neither food nor housing.” Astoria laughed.

“And for the record – these fancy parties have been with my dad’s work colleagues, where I have locked myself in my room except when I need to greet guests. So let’s not pretend I’ve been gallivanting around London, going to luxurious events and such. At best I might have found suitors to be my senile husband,” Astoria said and Amanda chortled. “Fair enough.”

They got lucky that year. They managed to keep their compartment all to themselves throughout the ride. “Who do you reckon got prefect?”

“Anthony Goldstein at least. Maybe Padma as well. Can’t think of anyone else,” Astoria shrugged. Anthony Goldstein was, in Astoria’s humble opinion, the fittest Ravenclaw. Most people would probably say that Michael Corner was the better choice, but she’d had a soft spot for Anthony ever since he lent her a quill right before second year final exams.

“Ooohh, Anthony Goldstein, you say? Wandering about the corridors of Hogwarts at night, looking for ladies up to no good,” Amanda teased, coaxing a smile out of Astoria. “Oh, shut it, you. You’re absolutely and utterly ridiculous.”

The rest of the trainride passed by easily, in comfortable conversation about the summer and the upcoming year, until they finally reached Hogsmeade station. “Oi, get a move on. I refuse to be stuck in a carriage with Loony Lovegood again,” Amanda said and tugged at Astoria’s sleeve. Astoria was, as usual, putting on her Hogwarts robes at the very last minute. “Oh Merlin, never again,” she agreed and jumped out of the compartment. They ran to the first free carriage, hoisting themselves up and taking their seats.

Amanda groaned. “Don’t look now, but I think your sister and her Slytherin friends will be joining our carriage.” They shared a silent plea that the group would find the next free carriage, but as she glanced back to the other carriages, she saw that the only one with enough space for them all was Loony Lovegood’s.

“We can sit by little Greengrass,” a voice remarked. Although she couldn’t see it, Astoria could imagine the faint scowl on her sister’s face. The group filled up the carriage, Daphne taking a seat between Amanda and Pansy, whereas Malfoy, and Nott sat net to Astoria. On the furthest side of the carriage sat Crabbe and Goyle. Daphne smiled stiffly and continued her conversation with Pansy in hushed tones.

Pansy looked ahead and snickered. “Looks like Potter’s made a new friend,” she said and the group turned to see Potter and his friends sat in the carriage with Loony Lovegood.

“Only makes sense that Potter and Loony Lovegood found each other, they’re both mad as mooncalves and with Diggory gone he needs a new girlfriend,” Draco said and the Slytherins erupted into laughter, Pansy exaggeratedly rocking back and forth as she screamed with glee. Daphne forced a chuckle but her eyes remained unaffected, and Astoria watched as she fixed her tie and looked away from the others. She and Amanda shared a look. Making jokes about Cedric was taking it too far, and they both knew it, but hearing Slytherins make fun of Loony — Luna Lovegood, also brought forward a peculiar feeling. Similar to the way that she would never let anyone get away with making fun of Daphne, allowing Slytherins to tease her housemate felt wrong.

“Oh, shut up Malfoy,” she mumbled. Amanda let out a snort, gaping slightly at Astoria.

Malfoy tensed up, turning to stare at her. “What did you say?” he asked, his pale face reddening.

“I just don’t think it’s right to talk about Cedric that way. And last year – while you were handing out badges with his face on them – I’m sure you would have agreed.” Astoria met his gaze and for a second he seemed almost embarrassed, but then embarrassed became haughty, and he scoffed. “Daphne, you should put your sister on a leash before she bites someone,” he said, and Daphne rolled her eyes. Malfoy seemed to realize his charm had run out momentarily, and turned around to face the boys, who still seemed thoroughly impressed with his wit.

When they reached Hogwarts and piled out of the carriage Daphne pulled Astoria to the side. “Draco is not an enemy you want to make,” she said, carefully pronouncing each word. Astoria opened her mouth to protest but Daphe continued. “Don’t say you weren’t trying to make enemies. You know what he’s like. We really don’t need that sort of attention now,” she said. As soon as she finished the sentence she turned on her heel and ran after Pansy.

***

“What do you think of that Umbidge lady?” Amanda asked as they lay together in Astoria’s bed. “She knows my parents. I’ve met her at events,” Astoria said and remained silent for a while. “Honestly, she gives me the creeps.” Amanda giggled and agreed. “There’s something on my mind though,” Astoria continued. “Earlier, when Daphe was talking to me – which is odd in its own right – she said something. She told me I shouldn’t make an enemy out of Malfoy because – and I quote – ‘we don’t need that sort of attention _now_ ’.” She let the words hang in the air for a bit. “Isn’t that an odd thing to say?”

Amanda considered in for a moment and shrugged. “I gave up understanding your sister the moment she agreed to a Hogsmeade date with Gregory Goyle.”

“It wasn’t a date,” Astoria protested, but laughed slightly. “I swear, it wasn’t a date! She was helping him with schoolwork and he payed for her butterbeer – that’s all! She will hex you if you go around telling people it was a date!” Amanda struggled to contain her laughter, even as the door to the dorm opened and Loony Lovegood trailed in. “Hello Astoria. Hello Amanda,” she said in her dreamy voice, ignoring the hushed laughter. “Have you had a nice summer?”

This only made them laugh more, until finally Astoria was able to muster a “yes, quite nice. Thanks for asking, Luna,” in between the quiet fits of laughter. Since first year Astoria and Amanda had spent the first night together in the same bed, surrounded by canopies and a fort of pillows, so they could whisper about everything that had happened over the summer, and everything they wanted to happen over the next year.

“This year, so help me Merlin, I will be asked to Hogsmeade,” Amanda whispered. “By anyone except Gregory Goyle,” she added, shaking with laughter once again. Astoria ignored her and continued. “This year, so help me Merlin, I will snog Anthony Goldstein. I will snog his beautiful, crooked face off.” Amanda gasped for breath. “Yes, you will. By the power of Merlin, you will,” she whispered.


	3. A myriad of reasons to lie

It would be a lie to say Defence Against the Dark Arts had ever been Astoria’s favourite lesson — she had always preferred Potions, Charms and Transfiguration — but never had she detested it either. Until she met professor Dolores Umbridge. She was even beginning to miss professor Moody’s creepy lessons. She wouldn’t even mind watching him torture a spider. In this class, she felt like the spider. Professor Umbridge had decided to revert to a style of teaching resembling that of the private tutor Astoria had before she began Hogwarts. All theory, none of it practical. The theory wasn’t even meant to give insight into the spells. Its as if the classes were designed to convince the students that dark magic was a thing of the past; that none of them would ever need to know a disarming spell, or to recognize curses or hexes. All they needed was the assurance that the world was pretty and pink and pleasant, waiting for them to step out into its warm embrace. Astoria scoffed and turned to the assigned page of the textbook. Umbridge’s shrill voice penetrated her ears, and she looked over to see Ginny Weasley almost turning a shade of purple, her knuckles white and eyes piercing the back of Umbridge’s head.

It came as no surprise that before the lesson’s end Weasley had received a detention. When Umbridge remarked that Cedric’s death had been a tragic accident, Weasley had insisted that Potter was telling the truth, and that Cedric had been murdered. Astoria had always respected Ginny Weasley, and she had no doubt that Weasley believed every bit of Potter’s story. She was even willing to admit that Potter himself may believe it, as the mind has curious ways of dealing with trauma. Umbridge on the other hand was not as tolerant.

As the students filed out of the classroom a fuming Ginny Weasley pushed past Astoria, followed by Loony Lovegood. Astoria and Amanda walked towards the Great Hall, followed by Irwin Broadmoor and Theodore Dowson, Ravenclaw boys in their year. “Professor Umbridge was well out of line,” Irwin said, glancing after Weasley. They all nodded in agreement, and Theodore shook his head. “What do you reckon – about this You-Know-Who stuff? My da’s been bashing the Prophet’s handling of it all summer – not that that’s new,” he said. Theodore’s dad had been a journalist some time ago, during the war, but stopped working years ago. “I can’t tell if he believes Potter, though. I don’t really know what to think.”

Astoria shrugged. “If You-Know-Who were back, wouldn’t we know by now? Was he ever known to be subtle?” she asked. She wasn’t certain if it was a question or a statement, but her group nodded and contemplated.

“Why would Potter lie, though?” Irwin asked. “It’s not as if it’s made him any friends.” Irwin had a remarkable way of simplifying the world around him. He had a quick answer to everything. Not a quick retort, or necessarily a solution, just a quick grasp of a situation. Sometimes he would oversimplify and miss the point entirely, like when a Hufflepuff in the year above had taken Amanda to Hogsmeade, kissed her, and then snogged another girl in a broom cupboard the next weekend. ‘But were you going steady?’ he had asked. That resolved the issue for him. His mind was hard to change once made up. More times than not his input would ground the group a bit, and force them to consider the foundation of the issue, rather than just theories and tidbits of facts surrounding it.

Why would Potter lie? It was a valid enough question. Maybe he didn’t know he was lying. Maybe he wanted Cedric’s death to be imbued with some meaning, to cope with the immense amount of guilt he must feel, having watched a competitor, and a friend, die in front of him. Maybe he didn’t know what his life looked like without danger looming above. Maybe he just felt like it. There were a myriad of reasons to lie.

***

Admittedly, Astoria had already finished her homework by the time Anthony Goldstein returned to the Ravenclaw common room. However, since he apparently still needed to prepare for his Potions lesson the next morning, it seemed only rational to redo her Transfiguration homework – just to be certain she had everything right. It was one of those rare moments where she was his closest acquaintance in the common room, so he chose to sit by her and pull out his parchment and quill. He sat down without saying anything, and seemed lost in thought for a moment before looking up and asking: “Sorry ‘Storia, do you mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all,” she said. “I’m just working on my Transfiguration homework.” He nodded. “Potions for me. Snape has got us jumping through hoops this term, I swear,” he said with a grin. Anthony was tall, with blonde, wavy hair and brown eyes, as well as a comically crooked jaw that suited him for some peculiar reason. When he smiled Astoria had a hard time understanding why anyone would want a straight jaw, and she was painfully aware how cringey this thought was.

“As he does. What are you working on?” Astoria leaned over the table to glance at his parchment. “Short essay on the uses and abuses of the Draught of Peace. Assigned to everyone that couldn’t brew it properly.” He slid the parchment over for her to read.

“So everyone?” He laughed. “Pretty much.”

“Well you seem to have the uses down, but I don’t see much about abuses,” she said, scanning the paper one more time.

“Well I wrote that it is dangerous to take it too often, or to rely on it,” he said, pointing to a scribble near the bottom.

“Yeah, fair enough. But there are more ways to abuse something like this. Someone could slip you a Draught of Peace before they betray you, and you’d never see it coming. Our fear impulses are created to protect us from danger, and this potion is brewed to dull them. Even if it is mostly for our benefit,” Astoria said, pushing the parchment back to him. “That’s what I’d write, anyways.”

He nodded. “I hadn’t considered it like that. That’s a good point,” he said, crouching over his essay and jotting more notes down. “You have a very Ravenclaw way of thinking,” he added quietly. Astoria didn’t know what that meant and raised her brows. He chuckled. “I only mean … I know your family are mostly Slytherin, but I’m glad that you’re a Ravenclaw. That you’re … here, you know?” Her cheeks had the remarkable ability to remain pale, even when she felt blood rushing throughout her entire body, heading upwards. “Oh. Right. Thanks,” she mumbled. He seemed to shake of the seriousness, grinned and added: “You’re a good addition to the house. Someone needs to follow my shoes next year and make prefect.”

She nodded with a smile, although she wasn’t as certain as he was that she would be his successor.

“I think that’s it for me tonight,” Anthony said, rolling up his parchment and closing his textbooks. “Thanks for the talk, ‘Storia. And the help.” He walked casually up to the boys’ dorms, giving here a final wave before he disappeared up the stairs. Astoria was left alone, with homework twice completed, an odd warmth all over and a goofy smile on her face.

***

Waking up usually felt like a bit of a chore, but this particular morning Astoria felt light on her feet, nearly jumping out of bed at the first sign of sunlight. “What’s gotten into you?” Amanda groaned from her huddle of sheets and pillows. “Talked to Anthony last night,” she said with a smirk, twirling slightly towards her trunk and putting out her school robes. Amanda shot up in her bed. “So that’s why you were studying for ages,” she said, pulling her hair into a ponytail. “What happened?”

Astoria shrugged, unable to keep the goofy grin from resurfacing on her face. “We just talked. And he said … that he was happy that I was in Ravenclaw. More importantly! He said he was happy I was _here_ ,” she said, ephasizing each word carefully. Amanda buried her face in a pillow and squealed. The goofy grin had extended to her face, and they excitedly debated the possibilities, trying to keep quiet so as not to wake their other dormmates. “There’s a Hogsmeade trip in a couple of weeks,” Astoria said. “Do you think he’ll ask you?” She shrugged. “Maybe. I hope so,” she said, quiet as a whisper.

“Let’s get to breakfast,” Amanda said, finally getting out of her bed and putting on her robes. By some amazing chance or grace of Merlin, there in the common room were Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and Anthony Goldstein, crowded around a game of wizard’s chess. “I can’t believe you’re dating Ginny Weasley,” Terry Boot said, and Astoria took a sharp breath. Anthony contiued: “Yeah, what would a girl like that ever see in a wanker like you?” And she exhaled. Michael was laughing slightly, seeming proud of himself. He looked up at the girls and smiled, “Hiya, girls!” He looked to the other boys, seeming to send them a silent plea to stop debating his love life.

Anthony turned around, flashing Astoria a bright smile. “Hey ‘Storia, hey Amanda,” he said. “We’re heading to the Great Hall, if you’d like to join.”

Potter had an uncanny ability to dominate conversations these days, as everyone raced to proclaim him either a hero or a lunatic. Michael – arguably not the most impartial – leaned towards hero, but it took Astoria slightly aback when Anthony did as well. Lean would be something of an understatement even. “I believe him,” he said, and he said it so decidedly that Astoria had to look away from him for a moment.

Terry seemed to take a more neutral stance, opting instead to ask question. “If he’s telling the truth, and You-Know-Who really is back. Why wouldn’t the Ministry be doing something about it? And why wouldn’t we be certain?”

It was moments like this that Astoria truly appreciated her decision to be a Ravenclaw. Some wouldn’t call the Sorting a decision, but she felt she knew better. There was no better judge of character than aspiration. Anyone aspiring to belong to Ravenclaw, would embody its traits. She occasionally felt this was a secret only she and the Sorting Hat shared. Had she been a Slytherin, would they have amicably debated the possibilities of their entire world crashing down on their way to breakfast? She didn’t think so. Loyalty, in the Slytherin sense, had always felt more of the unquestioning sort, whereas she believed loyalty to be criticism. Criticism of oneself and the people one loved, and was loyal to. Loyalty was to set a standard of behaviour, and hold people accountable to their ideals. In a sense, she didn’t think of herself as loyal to the person, but rather to the person they aspired to be, because that was what drew her to people in the first place.

As she focused back in on the conversation, it had progressed to Umbridge. “It’s strange though, isn’t it? That the Ministry chooses to intervene now. Directly after a threat of You-Know-Who returning. It doesn’t strike me as a coincidence,” Terry said.

She could agree to that. “But could that be a sign of the Ministry taking the matter seriously, and looking into whether anything could have caused these claims inside of the Hogwarts curriculum?” she wondered. “Either way, the question we come back to it, would it be responsible of the Ministry to ignore years of previously held knowledge, at the first sign of danger? What sort of response could you even expect from them?”

Anthony shook his head. “I think to begin with, they could have saved some credibility by not spearheading a smear campaign against a fifteen year old kid. Regardless of whether or not they think he’s lying, it’s a suspicious way to behave.”

Amanda jumped in. “Are we really saying that the Ministry is in complete control of everything the Prophet does? That Rita Skeeters reports to Minister Fudge, maybe?” she scoffed. They had reached the Great Hall and huddled around the Ravenclaw table, now arguing about the Prophet, and Astoria allowed herself to sit back and listen.


	4. Prejudice plays its part

Astoria felt her parents’ favouritism could sometimes reach comical heights, and this referred in particular to her mother’s tendency to only write a letter to Astoria, adding a short note at the end, requesting she relay anything important to Daphne. She had occasionally brought this up with her mother, who had said it was merely an attempt to make sure the sisters were keeping each other updated while at school, despite being in different houses. Nevertheless, Astoria was always the one to receive the letter, the rather peculiar reasoning behind that being her knack for summarising. ‘You have a great talent for picking out the important parts and explaining in such a concise way,’ her mother had said. It was pointless to argue, so every month Astoria would go find Daphne to relay the crucial aspects of their mother’s letter. 

“Daphne!” she called, running down the hallway. Daphne turned around, motioning for Pansy and Millicent to go on without her. “I’ll make it quick,” Astoria said, as they began their monthly ritual. “For starters, they’re both well, but father’s back is acting up again so mother thinks he will work from home over Christmas break. She expects us home for Christmas, and sent money so we could find ourselves dressrobes in Hogsmeade. The Malfoys are having a Christmas soiree, and we’re expected to attend. Apparently it is particularly important to look nice – something related to the situation of Venus, or the like – which will lead to high activity in your romantic life over this Christmas break. Something to look forward to,” she said with a smile, and Daphne laughed slightly. “The money can be used for any type of robe except periwinkle blue, black and any variety of orange. Grandfather is well, but she doesn’t expect him to last the year, as usual, and she says to steer clear of Potter and treat professor Umbridge kindly. She suggests a box of sugared treats, but in my personal – humble – opinion, I think that would be taking it around three steps too far.” She took a deep breath. “That covers it, I think.” Astoria handed over a small bag containing half of the galleons that had accompanied the letter and Daphne took them.

“Tell her that I will find green robes and remain open to romantic energies. Make it sound nice,” Daphne said. “What did she say about you?”

It was usually an unspoken agreement between them to only discuss the matters pertaining to Daphne or their family’s health, so Astoria waited a moment before continuing. “That I should be cautious of people who take decisions carelessly, and that a great change is coming, of some ambiguous sort. Possibly I will be the cataclyst of the change, but it will occur within me and will be imperceptible to the naked eye.”

Daphne nodded. She shared their mother’s love of Divination, although they rarely discussed it with each other. “That’s not bad advice,” she said. “Regarding caution, that is.” She looked pensive for a moment. “Well, until next time. I’ll be looking out for signs of a great, ambiguous change in you,” she added with a subtle smile and turned to walk away.

Astoria felt strange, walking back to the common room. She wanted to talk to Amanda, but Amanda was nowhere to be found. This was a hard feeling to explain to anyone else. She was upset by the friendly conversation with Daphne, the slight banter and the smiles, as if they shared some secrets. Perhaps this was the change her mother had referred to. Her relationship with Daphne was changing. Perhaps imperceptibly so, but definitely changing. Daphne was reaching out, in her own way, and Astoria didn’t know what to make of it.

***

“Greengrass! Hey– Greengrass!” Malfoy was walking across the courtyard, towards her. “Have you seen your sister?” he asked. She remembered having a crush on Malfoy, when she was younger. Before Hogwarts, when she saw him at family events for Ministry employees and such, when she thought that a pretty face could equate good character. She remembered Daphne’s words nonetheless. He wasn’t an enemy you wanted to make.

“Not since yesterday, no. Sorry,” she said, and continued walking through the courtyard. She was on her way to the lake, to enjoy the last days of the September sun. He kept walking alongside her, leaving Crabbe and Goyle standing stupidly in the shadow of the large arches. “Any idea where she might be?”

“None in the slightest,” she said. The difference between Draco alone, and Malfoy with his friends was somewhat striking, and then the Malfoy with his parents was a different story altogether. She supposed this was true of everyone, though. He sighed. “Well, if you see her in the next few hours, let her know I’m looking for her. Otherwise don’t bother,” he said, touching her shoulder gently before turning around and walking back to his friends. He took the first steps hurriedly, before slowing down to a leisurely pace as he approached his friends. He seemed to assume a different character. More boisterous and confident.

She wondered what could have such a concrete time limit, but realized that of course in a few hours they would have dinner, and all the Slytherins would be seated together at the house table. She didn’t need to make a mystery of everything. She did however let the rather amusing thought that Malfoy and Daphne were having a secret, torrid love affair, right under Pansy’s nose, occupy her for a minute. Daphe had never shown the slightest interest in Malfoy, however. Not that Astoria could say with any confidence who Daphne did show an interest in. Their only real conversation about love had been the summer before her third year. While practically everyone she knew was at the world cup, the Greengrasses had borrowed an estate from a family friend, and spent weeks beside a small lake in the south of France. This memory was something of an oasis to her, thinking back to nights on the veranda with Daphne, while their parents took long walks in the twilight.

Astoria sat down by the Black Lake and pulled out her textbook. She didn’t know whether studying for Defence this year was even worth it. Every chapter was more mundane than the previous, and the classes were a monotony of lectures about the theory of defensive spells. Astoria, a devout Ravenclaw, would never knock theory. Theory was the foundation of magic, but theory in itself did not magic make. She pitied the fifth and seventh years more than anyone, who would have to take their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, respectively, under Umbridge’s tutelage.

“Hey, ‘Storia!” she straightened her back and feigned a focused look, only glancing up when Anthony was nearly at the bank of the Lake. “That’s an intense look. What are you reading?” he asked. The absurdity of her plan now dawned on her, as he looked and found she had been struggling with a ministry approved Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook. “It’s just so ridiculous we have to study it like this,” she said, feeling confident she had managed to persuade him that she, in fact, was not an imbecile who could barely read the large print in the almost comically simple textbook.

He nodded solemnly. “I’d have to agree with you there. We’ll have a generation of witches and wizards not equipped to defend themselves. Can’t imagine why the Ministry is supporting this,” he said, narrowing his eyes and looking out at the lake.

“Right. But I will grant them that the past few Defence teachers have been a bit concerning. With Lockhart, Lupin, and Mad-Eye,” she said. “Hopefully it’s just standard and next year this whole thing will be over.”

He examined her face. “Lupin was a fantactic professor, though.” She grimaced. They had reached an uncomfortable stage in this discussion. “Of course his classes were interesting, and I enjoyed them. But you have to see that having a werewolf as a professor is dangerous. Not in the least since he’d miss every four or so classes,” she said. “That’s no way to teach.”

“He wasn’t dangerous. People were just prejudiced,” Anthony said. “No teacher has taught me as much as he did.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to boil it down to pure prejudice. I agree that werewolves should be granted as normal a life as possible, but I’m not sure that should also include caring for children,” she said. “What if he bites one? And limits that child’s possibilities for the rest of their lives? It’s irresponsible.”

“Is that you or your parents talking?” he asked, tightening his jaw with a smug look in his eyes. There it was. There it bloody was. She was a pureblood, and so her opinions were not her own. They had been crafted by generations of _cruelty_ or _privilege_ or _prejudice_ , and anything she said could be rewound by twenty, or forty, or fourhundred years, only to hear her ancestor making the same claim. She knew better than to scream or shout or cry. When a woman broke down into hysterics, it would only prove the opponents point. That she couldn’t argue for herself. So she took a deep breath.

“So we disagree, and the only possible explanation you can see for that is that you have managed to _free yourself from the bounds of tradition_ , whereas I am still too stupid and limited to see past my tiny horizon? You think your opinions are any less derived from your environment?” she asked, taking care not to grit her teeth. “So yes, I say that I think it is dangerous for a werewolf to be teaching and sharing a living space with children. Not just children – mischevous children – children who roam the halls and grounds at night. Where do you think he transformed? Did they apparate him outside school grounds or was he somewhere, here, relying on a potion brewed just right to keep him sedated? And yes, prejudice plays its part. When my parents found out, they considered pulling me out of school, applying for a transfer to Beauxbatons. But to insinuate that I must be speaking on someone else’s behalf, when I _dare_ disagree with you, is frankly bollocks, and I would have expected better from you.” She got up, dusted off her robes. “And now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to find somewhere else to sit, and I’d be grateful if you wouldn’t follow me.” And so she left a stunned Anthony Goldstein behind and marched further towards the forest, before finding a tree where she could sit, shielded from Anthony’s view.


	5. Snake in a birdhouse

Although she was no longer boiling with anger, it had only reduced to a simmer as she walked back up to the castle. Their conversation hadn’t been surpising, and his comment was nothing she hadn’t heard before. Her own reaction had been surprising. She felt vulnerable, as if she’d put her heart on her sleeve. She was completely naked. She envied the people who threw their opinions around like they meant nothing, and tested the words to their tongue while they spoke, unsure if they fit.

She was anxious about the apology that would inevitably follow, and the expectations that came with it. This was how it would go: Anthony would approach her, either at dinner or in the common room. There would be people around, but the conversation would be semi-private. He would say it non-chalantly. Something like: ‘Hey, I’m sorry things got a bit heated before. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.’ He wouldn’t apologize for the assumption, but rather her reaction to it. She would then be expected to say ‘thanks’, for being the bigger man. The man in general. And then she should apologize, for having overreacted. The conversation would take place within earshot of other Ravenclaws. They would see that he was kind and fair, and that she was dramatic but humble. They wouldn’t need to speak of it again. The next time she would speak her mind she need only be reminded of this exchange, with a knowing glance from anyone who had heard, as a signal that she should maybe calm down before she said something she didn’t mean – as she tended to do. There was no way for her to come out of this the winner. She could take the mature route; she could confront him and explain why his actions had bothered her, or she could take the immature, tempting route; she could avoid him until his apology had defaulted on a time limit, and they could let the conversation speak for itself.

She watched her feet move forward underneath her robes, one at a time, and as she finally looked up she could see a familiar figure in the distance. Daphne. “Daphne!” she called, running to catch up. Daphne was by herself, heading to the greenhouses. “Sorry, I just needed to tell you that Draco was looking for you earlier. It seemed important,” she said.

Daphne raised her eyebrows. “Oh? I was just with Draco. He didn’t mention anything,” she said. “Did he say what it was about?”

Astoria examined her sisters face. “Come to think of it, no he didn’t. Maybe he just needed to find you.” She couldn’t tell if Daphne was being honest, or if whatever Draco had needed to say was meant for her ears only. Either way, it wasn’t important. “I just figured I’d let you know,” she said, waving a quick goodbye and heading back towards the castle. She agreed with Amanda. Understanding Daphne was of no use.

***

Astoria had decided to skip dinner the night before, telling Amanda she would explain later and asking her to bring some leftovers to the dorm. She avoided the common room as well, not wanting to run into Anthony.

Amanda had understood her anger, proclaiming Anthony a git and Astoria a heroine, but Astoria couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t quite understand how hurt she was by the comment. She was a snake in a birdhouse. That was what he had meant. No matter the fact that that only a few weeks before he had told her how happy he was that she was a Ravenclaw. He had meant: I am glad you’re one of the good ones. He expected her to conform to his ideas of good. So she was angry. She also realized that he hadn’t meant any harm. To him, it had been a good sported debate and he’d overstepped his bounds. He would feel guilty. Not seeing her at dinner would increase his guilt, and she felt sorry for him. He had no way of understanding why she had reacted the way she did, because he’d never had to think of it before. He’d never had to rationalize not just his beliefs, but his integrity, in a friendly debate – not his opinions, but the foundation on which he crafted them. And so he couldn’t understand.

She found herself calming down, as she put on her robes to head down for breakfast. She knew his intentions hadn’t matched the consequences. He was just as much playing a part as she was. His apology would be sincere. He truly hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings. Could she blame him for not understanding how it had happened? She couldn’t really say. In any case, by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs her anger had dissipated.

She didn’t see him until breakfast. He was sitting a few seats away from her and shot her furtive glances. He didn’t say anything.

It was a Sunday, and Astoria figured she could spend the day in the library, with the occasional walk outside. Amanda would be going to Quidditch tryouts, to see if she could snag one of the open chaser spots. There were more open places than usual, after last years matches had been cancelled. Astoria had offered to come and watch, to support her, but Amanda assured her it wasn’t necessary.

As she walked out of the Great Hall, Anthony ran to catch up. “Hey, ‘Storia. Can I talk to you?” he asked and she nodded. They walked a bit further down, until he’d found a secluded spot. “I just wanted to say sorry, about yesterday. I really didn’t mean what I said, and it just came out all wrong. I thought it would be a joke, but it clearly wasn’t. So I’m sorry,” he said, putting one hand on her shoulder.

His apology had exceeded her expectations somewhat, so she smiled and nodded. “It’s okay, I understand. I didn’t mean to get so angry. I should have stayed and told you why I was upset. And I know you’re sorry, but I just need to make sure you know what you’re sorry for. Is that okay?” she asked.

He looked concerned, but exhaled a sigh of relief and nodded. “When you said what you said, it felt to me like you were putting all of me into question. And with a background like I do – the Slytherin one, the one people associate with Dark magic, even though my family has been anything but – insinuating that means something. It feels like you’re saying I can’t be trusted to make my own decisions. And that hurt. Because I’m in this house on the same merit as everyone else. I’m not a Slytherin who landed here by mistake. I’m a Ravenclaw. But I feel like you still think of me as an extension of my family, rather than looking at me, and my qualities. Does that make sense?” It did. He looked genuinely sorry. “I’m not mad at you, I just want you to understand what happened,” she added.

“I do. I know I was wrong. And this is going to sound wildly inappropriate now, but the reason I was acting like a git is because I was nervous,” he said, his face brightening as he chuckled a little. “I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but then I just made a mess of things.”

She felt a flutter in her stomach. Despite everything that had happened, the fact that Anthony Goldstein wanted to ask her – Astoria Greengrass– to Hogsmeade was still worth something. “I don’t suppose you’d still be interested in that? If I promise not to act like a prick?”

“I might be. On the assurance that you don’t act like a prick,” she agreed. She felt giddy and light as a feather. Next weekend she would be going to Hogsmeade with Anthony Goldstein. A smile spread across his face. “Fantastic! Where are you heading now?” he asked, and they walked together to the library.

***

“Have we forgiven Anthony?” Amanda asked with a cheeky smile, as Astoria returned to the common room. Astoria jumped onto Amanda’s bed. “I’d say so, yes.”

“So he’s apologized?” Amanda sat up in her bed, where she had been huddled over a book. Astoria nodded. “And he’s asked me to Hogsmeade!” Amanda yelped. “What?! When did this happen? How am I only hearing this now?” She threw the book away. “You should have sent an emergency owl the minute he asked!”

Astoria laughed and apologized. “I’ve just been with him in the library all day,” she said and fell back onto the bed, allowing her head to dangle off the edge. Amanda joined her, her long hair touching the ground. “How romantic,” she said and smiled. Astoria couldn’t tell if her cheeks felt warm because she was thinking about Anthony or because of the blood flowing to her head. “We just studied, and talked, and studied. Madam Pince had to shush us so many times. I’m certain she won’t let me into the restricted section ever again,” Astoria said, not able to keep the dopey smile off her face.

“Oh, hush. She loves you,” Amanda said. Madam Pince was a relative on her mother’s side, who had taken a special affinity to Astoria when she was younger. She would occasionally – under strict supervision – allow her into the restricted section to peruse the titles. She had not yet been permitted to open any of the books, but Astoria hoped to retain this privilege and possibly advance to being allowed to skim a few pages before she graduated.

They stayed silent for a while, every now and then giggling, and they had clasped their hands together. “Sometimes I think you’re too quick to forgive,” Amanda finally said, sounding sombre.

Astoria contemplated it for a moment. “Maybe.”

“I think you take the other person’s feeling too much into account, and you disregard your own feelings. Even when you deserve to get angry, or upset.” Amanda had closed her eyes and her voice was barely above a whisper. “That’s why I was so proud, when you told me that you’d shouted at Anthony–“

“I didn’t shout–“

“–and told him that he was being a prick–“

“I definitely didn’t say that.”

“–because he was. And I think it’s great that you’ve forgiven him, and that you’re going to Hogsmeade. I just don’t want you to lose this side of you – the Astoria that sets boundaries and demands respect when people are being stupid. Because I know you’re the smartest, kindest person in the world, and I don’t want stupid boys wagging their chins and making you feel less than.”

Astoria was frozen to the bed and tightened her hold on Amanda’s hand. “I love you. You are the best friend I could have ever wished for,” she said, and Amanda let out a slight laugh. “I love you too, if that wasn’t obvious,” she said. Both of them had tears in her eyes. “I can’t believe you’ve done this. Now you’ve made me cry and crying while upside down is ridiculous,” Astoria said. They laughed and rolled onto their stomach. “We should go to dinner,” Amanda said and wiped the last of her tears away with a smile. She didn’t know what her life would look like without Amanda; if she’d been a Slytherin or if she’d sat by anyone else that first night at Hogwarts. Her life would have been a million times worse and she’d never have been the wiser.


End file.
